Page 11 of The Alpha King's Mate

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Four days later, men rushed to keep pace as I made for the isolation cells. There had been no fights, attacks, or problems since that first day. Three times a day, the latch opened and closed. Feeding her.

Someone hurried to unlock the door for me.

She lay on the concrete bed. Hands tucked beneath her head, one leg crossed over the other and swinging idly in the air. She looked healthier. The gauntness was fading. Where her cheeks had sunk inward, they were beginning to fill.

The dark circles had faded too. She’d probably slept more in that cell than she had in years.

She moved.

She knelt on the dirty floor. Head down.

“Have you learnt your place?”

“Yes, Alpha King,” she murmured.

“Make sure she bathes before she’s brought to my home,” I said, turning to leave.

There were murmurs of agreement, but it was Zev who looked amused.

I ignored him. I was merely teaching my new servant her place.

Chapter 5

Aliana

I climbed the stairs into the Alpha King’s home. The five-minute walk from the prison had passed in silence until now.

“Do as he says and you might survive,” Zev said before he nudged me towards the dining area.

They didn’t know I’d been surviving for years. Deeana and her then twelve-year-old daughter had moved into my home the day after my mother died. I’d been living off scraps and foraging ever since.

Ember was in the kitchen with a clipboard in hand, speaking to a man. They were discussing plans for dinner. The blonde-haired woman turned to face us before flipping over a page on her clipboard.

“Right. I’ll take her from you, Zev,” she said, approaching us.

With a nod, he left.

She began to list my duties as personal servant to the Alpha King.

“You rise at five. The Alpha wakes at six, and by then his coffee is made—black, no sugar—and his breakfast is plated. You’ll collect both from the kitchen and carry them up. You do not knock. He knows you’re coming.”

She flipped another page.

“You’ll lay out his clothing for the day. Wardrobe schedule is pinned inside the dressing room. Suits for council business, blacks for pack matters. If he’s training, leave the training kit on the bench, gloves on top. Boots polished the night before, never the morning of.”

“You’ll draw his bath in the evening and attend it. Towels warmed. He’ll tell you what he needs.”

Attend it. Attend a bath. How did one attend a bath?

“You’ll serve his meals when he dines at home and stand by until he’s finished. You eat after, in the kitchen. Whatever comes off his table is yours.”

My chest did something strange at that. His table. Not scraps scraped into a bin and fished out later. Off his table.

“His study is cleaned daily, but you touch nothing on the desk. Not a pen. Not a paper. His bedchamber, the same—clean it, air it, and leave it exactly as you found it. He notices everything.” She lowered the clipboard and looked at me properly for the first time.“And he does. Notice everything. Remember that before you’re ever tempted to be clever.”

“Anything he asks for, day or night, is yours to provide. You sleep in a room on his floor. His bedroom is at the top of the hall. There’s a bell.”